A/N: This chapter was sponsored in part by LogicalPremise, by which I mean he bitched at me for not updating fast enough while he actually managed to finish "Of Sheep and Battle Chicken". I'm being serious. He actually finished it.
He also kicked the stupid out of a lot of my planned elements. Hooray for collaboration!
Be sure to read his next story "And Then There Were None"! It's already got like four chapters, and is shaping up to be something very much worth your time. By the time I post this, it'll probably be five chapters.
At the behest of BSG-Legacy, I'm gonna start putting a little recap in the top A/N because of the lag time between updates. Also, if you read Chapter 4 when it first was posted, I strongly recommend reading it again. I updated it with a new version that's basically entirely different around halfway through.
As always, Bioware owns all, etc and this work was beta'd by BSG-Legacy, MeganD, and that dude with the name I keep mentioning above.
LAST TIME ON FLOCK OF VANDALS:
-Shepard and Co. arrived at their bunker, or rather her and Zaeed's
-They split up to do other things in the bunker. Mordin starts working on Shepard's supplementary implant for her mark. Zaeed takes a nap.
-Sederis takes several Widow shots to the face, gives zero fucks
-Bray and Gavorn go visit Eclipse HQ, and attempt to hire Sederis personally. Things go weird.
-Miranda waddles like a penguin and fails, in fantastic fashion, to manipulate Shepard into regressing back into her old duty. Then Shepard passes out between her legs.
-(|)-
Vasir slowly slipped back into consciousness, her head feeling as though someone had slathered it with grease, dunked it in lukewarm still water, and kicked it into zero-g. She regained her sense of awareness, bits and pieces of information trickling down to her. Then, the pain started again. Searing, jagged metal in her sides and stomach, now a relatively dull echo of what it once was. It still hurt like hell, though.
The sharp sensation threw her mind into high gear, endorphins and ancient training forcing her to adapt. She growled and clumsily clawed at her mask, blind and muted by the collage of crap on her head. As she struggled, she felt a presence over her. She reached out and grabbed it by the neck. Her body and mind jump-starting into full capacity, she tore off her head wrap to see an asari in a choke hold, a shitty bedroom and some ramshackle medical equipment.
"Where am I and who are you?" growled Vasir.
"Safe," the asari croaked. "A friendly."
"Listen to me very carefully. I am going to ask you some questions, and you will answer them. Short and simple." Vasir snarled, remembering the last person who tried to help her. Shepard. That stupid bitch had ruined everything. "Am I still on Omega?"
The asari nodded.
"Is Aria dead?"
She shook her head.
"Good." Vasir narrowed her eyes. "Do you know who I am?"
Another nod.
"Fuck. How?"
"Armor, then the burn on your breast."
Vasir raised a brow before looking down at her right breast. There it was, burned right into her skin. A spectre armory logo. "Dammit." She realized that she was in a hospital gown, and that the asari she was currently gripping by the throat was in a lab coat. "Which would make you Mordin Solus," she said, releasing the asari.
The asari coughed a few times and smoothed out her clothes. "You've got fingers like krogan, you know that?" She robbed her throat and winced. "No, that'd be the salarian down the hall. I'm Doctor Inaara Ceres, the one who put you back together again after those idiots shredded your innards." The doctor sat down in a chair and took a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry, you're going to have to give me a second to find my throat. My last patient had a violent allergic reaction to all of her free of charge, invasive, organ reconstruction surgery."
Vasir gave the doctor a sidelong glance. "Thank you," she said, begrudgingly. "You'll receive payment-"
"I should hope so. I've operated on soldiers before, thousands, and they can come in with some truly horrific injuries, but yours was, by far, the single worst case of how-is-she-not-even-dead I've ever seen."
"I'm hard to kill." That. She remembered that. Stabbed, thrown through a building and crashed into a smoking pile of molten metal. No one had ever gotten the better of her like that before. "Goddess, how long was I out?" Vasir clutched her head, grunting from the massive migraine that was hitting her. "I feel like I got impaled by a rabid acid varren and then entered a headbutting contest with an elcor."
"Oh, wow. Your cognitive abilities must be unimpaired, because you really don't want to know how accurate that was. Medically speaking, you shouldn't be able to heal this quickly, or speak, but at this point I really don't care how that happened." She picked up a datapad and perused through it. "You've been out of commission for around two days now, roughly forty hours. Half of it was in this bed, which as you can see is very much not a fully equipped clinic with everything I need to actually do my damn job."
Vasir held her sides, gingerly tracing her fingers over her stab wounds. "I'm assuming you didn't harvest my organs, then. I'd be dead already."
"Most likely. I wouldn't have done it anyway. They were basically meat by the time I got to you. Not much of a profit in that," she said, tossing the datapad on to a nearby table. "Organ harvesting should be the least of your worries, spectre. Debriefing's not really my thing, though, so I think I'll let Shepard do it. Mostly because I'd rather you murder her for being the bringer of bad news." She pinched her forehead. "And you are really not going to like what you're gonna hear."
Vasir slowly turned to Ceres, cynical and exhausted. "It's been forty hours. What could have possibly-"
"Rachni and anarchy," she sighed. "That's the abridged version, anyway."
"Fuck."
-(|)-
"Okay, Bray, you first. Why are you relevant?" said Sederis, her lips smeared with a cheeky grin.
Bray didn't hesitate. He'd played this kind of game before. Probably. The four asari commandos with rifles and swords at his throat were a new factor, though. "You're talking to me, you haven't killed me yet and you are incapable of wasting time." There was no hidden sarcasm in his voice. He wasn't dumb enough to pull that in front of Sederis. Aria was one thing, but Sederis was quite another.
"You." She tapped his forehead playfully. "I like you. Your blunt speech is somehow eloquent and graceful," she smiled and made eye contact with both sets of his eyes. Stark white on deep black. "Perhaps it's your demeanor, or some other unique, untainted factor of batarian culture I'm uninformed of…"
"Probably the first one, if I had to guess."
Sederis stared at him a moment longer. "Perhaps you are right. We are all alive and thriving, are we not?" She blinked, pouted, and gestured lazily to the very much dead asari still in her chair. "Except for her, because she's dead and has already served her purpose." Sederis clapped her hands together. "Take the body away and leave us. We shall discuss this business in private."
The four asari sheathed their blades and slung their rifles in perfect unison. Three entered the elevator as the fourth hauled the dead body onto her shoulder to join them shortly after. As soon as the doors closed, Sederis plopped down in her large, cushy chair.
"You, Gavorn. Words. Say them," she said.
Gavorn shifted uneasily. He held his rifle tighter, not that it would do any good, and clenched his mandibles onto his cheeks. "Exactly what he said."
"Mimicry? Oh, how far the mighty, brave and bold turians have fallen! From atop their predatory perch, down to the lowly...lowly-est…" Sederis rubbed her temples and sighed deeply. "Prose. Elocution and execution. It's just far too purple." Her eyes flickered brightly for a few moments.
Bray narrowed two eyes at the crazy asari, knowing full well that even this was considered odd for Sederis. "Purple?"
"Yes! Bardic! Long, emphasized tales in the form of epic poetry! Fifteen thousand sounds to say a single word!" She laughed. The way her body appeared to writhe, as if it were involuntary, as if her continued existence was somehow pure corruption, was terrifying. "Oh, Goddess, I just realized you two really don't give a shit about this kind of thing!" She smiled happily and slouched into her chair. "You have no idea how fucking exhausting it gets. Sit, please! Relax." She gestured to the chairs in front of her desk, still smiling.
Bray and Gavorn exchanged a look of utter confusion before taking their seats.
Bray cleared his throat. He had no idea what was happening. "So, thank you for taking the time to talk to us, ma'am. Aria appreciates it."
Sederis raised a brow and frowned. "Somehow I doubt that. Really, though, I should be thanking you two for this merciful interruption." She kicked her feet up on her desk, splattering several forms of viscera on to it. "My people need a public figure, a force of nature, to follow or they'll be lead astray by some loud mouthed squint-" She blinked. "Hm. Squint. Odd racial slur. Bit of a misnomer."
Bray fought the urge to roll all of his eyes. He could see Gavorn trying not to snicker beside him. He smacked him upside the head. "Fuck you too, bird."
Sederis snapped her fingers, redirecting attention. "Hey. Pay attention. Normally I charge up the ass for private consultations, so let's just cut through all the bullshit. I'm guessing Aria needs me to reign in all of these warring idiots. I have no idea who started this weird seven way coup, but it is just really poorly executed." She rolled her eyes. "Sloppy and unprofessional. A shame, really. I'm honestly embarrassed."
"No, actually. We've got that covered. She needs you to wipe out the red vorcha infestation."
Sederis's posture shifted intensely. She stared at them, castling her hands on the table. "Red Vorcha. Did I hear that right?"
Gavorn nodded. "Yeah. Left unchecked-"
She waved him off flippantly. "I know what they're capable off, and what they are. I was made aware that they were here. What I don't know is why they're still alive. How long have they been on this station?"
Bray added up the hours in his head. "Around two days, I think. They showed up six hours or so before the Hunt started."
"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." Sederis narrowed her eyes and keyed a command on her terminal. "This is Sederis. I hereby call for the execution of my temporary personal assistant. I don't care who does it, because I don't remember who they are or what they look like, or their race or gender. Just make sure they're dead in the next ten minutes because apparently somebody neglected to inform me of the FUCKING HUNT!" She snarled, her biotics flaring wildly and actually melting a part of the wall behind her with a slash of sharp blue. "We're locked in on this station, aren't we?"
Bray nodded, completely ignoring the violent display of biotics. It wasn't like he hadn't seen that before. Aria had her moments, rare as they were. "Yeah. Aria won't lift the lockdown until the target is either confirmed dead, or brought to her alive." He tilted his head. "Did you...miss the mass broadcast of Aria's declaration? I'm pretty sure we sent it directly to every vidscreen, speaker and omni-tool on the station."
"Apparently I did. I'm not sure how, exactly, but I can't seem to remember that happening. I knew outbound comms were jammed, except for that stupid prophet. I just assumed somebody did that for fun."
Bray sighed and tapped open his omni-tool. He set it to play the recording of Aria's speech. Sederis didn't seem to react until the target's picture came into view.
"Stop. Right there." She practically tossed a datapad at him. "Make me a local copy. Now. Does Aria know who this is?"
"Don't think so." Bray did as he was told and placed the pad on her desk. "Someone you know?"
Sederis furrowed her brow and her eyes glowed white. Suddenly, Bray couldn't move. He writhed, helplessly, as his joints and bones betrayed his commands, twisting and contorting as he was lifted into the air, a foot off the ground. Methodically. Slowly. Painfully. He caught glimpses of Gavorn, sadly in the same predicament.
He couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. Sweat trickled down his body as he tried to helplessly rebel against what he assumed was some form of biotic grip. He'd been hit by battlemasters before, but that had been brute force. This was control, fine and precise. And it was horrifying. He was prepared for death, just not like this.
"Who I know, what I know, and how I've discovered such troves of bountiful knowledge is of no concern to you drecks. You seek assistance from a Goddess, and you offer no tribute." She growled. "I should tear your spines from your bodies and fuse them together so that you two pitiful, weak pyjaks can be bonded for all eternity." She rose from her seat and placed her hands on both of their temples. "But I shall not, for I do not have the luxury of wasting time on such paltry and meaningless displays of power. I will not cleanse this station of your abominations, your demons. Not for you. Not for your queen." Sederis's eyes went jet black. "Embrace the void, and find harmony of the mind."
Then, everything went black.
-(|)-
Aria stared blankly at the holographic projection of her station, its now stable red glow blanketing over her inner sanctum. Afterlife was still hers, for the time being. The dust had settled from the initial chaos, more or less. The PMCs had expanded their borders, and most of the residential districts were an utter mess. Refugees approaching the Eclipse territory were struck down in short order, which wasn't surprising. Sederis was not known for her mercy. Those who approached her or the Suns had varying results. The Suns accepted everyone who would enlist, while Aria had been quite a bit more selective. Anyone who wasn't useful to her were turned away, while the rest were assigned tasks, menial or otherwise, with the promise of future rewards. She intended on delivering on that promise, though it would be paltry and minimal. Just enough to help them, but not enough to be significant.
In addition to the population issue, she'd been getting some alarming delta radiation alerts across the entire station, only for them to vanish a moment later. Repairing those sensors wasn't exactly viable at the moment, since the red vorcha were still out and about.
Tracking their movements had proved relatively easy. They made a lot of noise, and their tunneling wasn't nearly as elegant as the rachni's had apparently been. They were tough, but not invincible. The real danger, though, was if they chose to move their activities to the eezo mines, the reactors, or life support centers.
If even one was breached, she could very well lose the station right then and there. Thankfully, the red vorcha were more hungry than they were anarchists, if they were even capable of such thoughts, that is.
Even with all of that on her mind, the chaos, the death toll, and the horde of monsters ravaging her station, one thing, one stupid thing, couldn't be shaken from her mind.
Shepard.
Aria couldn't stop worrying about Shepard. It was infuriating. Every casualty report, of what little information she could gather, she searched for her name. It never came up, and every human that resembled her description turned out to be just another statistic. Shepard had flown off with that asari, with Zaeed, and that was the last trace of them she'd been able to find.
She needed that asari. She needed that greybox, and whatever what was on it, back. Yet, with every internal utterance of her needs, the only things that could stop this madness, Shepard had always managed to sneak herself onto the list.
It had crossed her mind that Shepard betrayed her and chose to protect the asari for a reason she couldn't even fathom. But Shepard wasn't stupid. She knew the consequences for something as dire as that. Betrayal was impossible, and Aria had made sure of that. Conquering that incomparably efficient, professional and lethal mercenary had been a treat, and a challenge. There was resistance, there always was, but Aria was not one to give in to something so easily manipulated.
In short order, Shepard had become her left arm, doing the work that she couldn't trust anyone else with. If it needed getting done, Shepard got it done. It only made sense, of course. Aria had absorbed all she could about Shepard's past through their increasingly frequent liaisons, but obviously kept her own mind sealed as tightly as possible. Keeping their joining a one way street was difficult at times, but necessary. It was also quite effective in subjugating Shepard than she would have thought.
At the moment, though, she had bigger problems-did she though, truly? She was supposed to be, in the end, Omega's protector. Their ruler. Doubly so for those she cared about, and Shepard was much too valuable an asset to lose.
Aria sighed and willed her omni-tool to life. Omega was, at the moment, in a relative calm. She could risk calling her. At least that way, she'd find out if she was dead or not.
-(|)-
Shepard heard beeping. It was loud and intrusive. She rolled over to smack her alarm clock, only for her arm to find nothing but air. The momentum caused her to lose her balance and she fell face first off of what she had thought was her bed and onto the floor.
Pain surged through her head as she groaned. She was in the armory, of course. She couldn't remember why she was sleeping there, but the beeping wasn't stopping. Shepard slowly got up to her knees to find a very grim looking Miranda staring at her from across the room, her back firmly pressed against the closed shutters.
"Good morning?" said Shepard, followed by a long yawn. "Is the door stuck again? Here, let me have a look-"
"Shepard. Your omni-tool!"
Shepard raised a brow and looked down at her glowing, flashing wrist. It said, in bright bold letters: INCOMING CALL, ARIA. It took Shepard a moment to process that. Her eyes shot out of her head as she swiftly unlocked the shutter doors and kicked Miranda outside. "No time to explain! Everyone be quiet!" she barked into the common room. Her eyes swept the area, only to meet the cold, angry ones of a very conscious Tela Vasir, wearing some of her clothes, being supported by Dr. Ceres. "Shit! I – no time! I'm sorry!" She sealed the door behind her and pulled a pocket mirror out of her pants. She inspected herself closely, and fixed what little of her features she could. With Aria, appearances were paramount.
She needed to fool Aria without compromising their relationship, which was no easy task, especially when the consequence for this level of betrayal, no matter how indirect it may have been, was literally her living nightmare, and Aria knew it.
Sold off to the highest caste of the Hegemony.
Shepard took a deep breath, leaned against her workbench. "Dear God, please let this work," she whispered. She set her omni-tool to record the call, and answered it. Aria's tired, exasperated face popped up on her screen. "Hey-"
"Thank the Goddess you're still alive, you fucking maniac. Where the hell have you been?" she barked at her. Not off to a great start. "And where is the asari?"
"Nice to know you're alive, too. I've been really busy, so sorry for not reporting in. The red vorcha have made it really difficult to keep to any kind of schedule," she smiled, speaking calmly.
Aria glared at her, and it sent a chill up her spine. "Yes. Well, they have a way of doing that, don't they? Regardless, I saw that you and Zaeed managed to capture the asari. Why haven't you brought her back to me?"
"Welllll…." She looked away, trying to appear ashamed to cover her lies. "She sort of...escaped."
"I...you cannot be serious. Shepard if this is another one of your terrible jokes..."
"It's not, really, I swear. I fucked up. I don't know how she did it, but she took us by surprise, tore Zaeed's car to shreds and ran off. We lost track of her completely after that." She frowned, embarrassed. "I assumed that, since you had already started the Hunt, that someone else would pick her up. I'm really sorry."
"You assumed? Honestly, Shepard, how naive can you get. The Hunt isn't to catch her. It's to ensure she can't escape." She scoffed. "You fucked up, oh Goddess, you very well and truly did fuck up this time, Shepard. Did you at least manage to make it home alright?"
Shepard perked up a little. It was rare for Aria to show even that much interest in her. "I did actually, thank you for asking. Had to fight off a horde of red vorcha, but otherwise Zaeed and I are okay. He's not too happy about losing his car, though."
Aria narrowed her eyes. "Shepard, hold off on the banal for a moment, you can't just gloss over this. You fought a horde of those things."
"Yup."
"And won."
"I'd say it's more like I survived and escaped, rather than won."
"I'm recording this call as of now. Explain to me, in as much detail as possible, how you were able to do that."
Shepard hesitated. Telling the whole story would undermine everything, and that would be it. Omitting only Vasir's presence would have Aria question as to why it was that Shepard had manifested a team of sorts. Shepard was questioning that as well, but she couldn't deny that if not for them, they'd all be dead. She had to play this just right. "Anti-rachni tactics. It's not really any more complicated than that. Explosives, biotics and thermite."
Aria paused, but then slowly nodded. "I wouldn't have made the connection to the rachni in the middle of a fight. Quick thinking on your part, Shepard. In any case, I need you back at Afterlife before things get even more out of hand."
Shepard paled and swallowed. "I, uhm, can't exactly do that."
"Shepard. Did you forget how this works? You said it yourself. I call, you come."
Shepard clenched her jaw. "Aria, I'm not going to venture into the horde to get all the way to Afterlife. Any transport I have will get torn apart, and any aircraft will be shot out of the sky in short order. I also can't exactly make the trip by walking." She sighed, frowning apologetically. "I'm really sorry, but it's just not in the cards right now."
Aria scowled at her for a long moment. Mercifully, she backed down with a roll of her eyes. "Fine. Coward. I thought you were more confident than this, but I suppose not. Promise me this, though. The moment, the second, that you have the chance to get here, you take it, no exceptions. I don't care what you're doing at the time. I don't care if you're saving the fucking galaxy. If you see an opening, you take it. Drop everything and go. Understood?"
"Absolutely."
"Promise me."
"I promise," she said, nodding a few times. Shepard hated that part.
"Good. Stay alive."
"You too."
The call ended, and Shepard wiped away the sweat that was forming on her brow. She'd lied to Aria before, but never with so much on the line, or the sheer amount of nuance and intricacies the situation contained. Hopefully, that bought her enough time to get the spectre to safety.
"Sorry about that, had a personal call that couldn't wait." Shepard opened the shutter doors and froze in place as she came face to face with five gun barrels brought to bare solely at her head. "I feel like I missed something here."
Vasir, Miranda, Ceres, Mordin, and even Zaeed were glaring at her. Mordin, above all, looked hurt. Betrayed. Vasir and Ceres were merely enraged, while Miranda and Zaeed looked reluctant and confused.
Vasir, who had found her horrifically deadly sidearm once again, broke the silence. "Lawson here-"
"Miranda is fine," interjected Miranda.
"Shut up. Miranda...," Vasir glared at the aforementioned woman. "Saw your omni-tool. Aria has your personal frequency, she called you. You answered it."
Zaeed scowled at her even more intensely. "Shepard, I think you know what I do to goddamn traitors. I was really hoping it wouldn't come to this, but just like everyone else, you stabbed me in the back. Good job. At least it's fucking consistent."
Mordin sighed deeply. "Lapse in judgment most likely due to...deteriorating impulse control and overall mental state. Thought you were stronger than this, Karen…"
"No, it had nothing to do with – I can explain. I didn't compromise us." Shepard traced her eyes over each of them and licked the inside of her lips. Her heart rate spiked and sweat dripped down her back. "I recorded the entire call. If you just let me play it-"
Vasir shook her head. "And then what? You'll stab me again, take out the rest of your 'friends', just so you can stay in Aria's favor? You saved my life when you could have killed me, but chose not to," she snarled. "I thought you were above this."
Miranda furrowed her brow. "Maybe we should at least listen to the call. She could be telling the truth."
"I am. I swear to God that I am."
At that, Zaeed and Mordin exchanged a look. They both lowered their weapons. Miranda stared at the two of them for a moment before slowly doing the same. Shepard gave the three of them a small smile.
"Unbelievable," growled Vasir. "I don't know what game you're playing, Shepard, but it ends here."
Shepard wasn't going to wait for Vasir to strike first. She wouldn't survive it. "I'm sorry it came to this." She focused her breath and reached out with both arms and biotics with grounded feet, curling a crude series of stasis fields around the joints of both asari. She twisted her wrists, and they yelped in pain as they forcibly dropped their weapons on the floor. Shepard released them from her biotic grip and sprinted towards Vasir, exploiting her momentary confusion to snap a biotic suppression collar around neck. Not a moment later, she whipped another collar at Ceres, the device traveling like a boomerang as it locked around her neck. Both asari shuddered as their biotics were forcibly severed from them. Shepard knew the feeling. Hollow. Unbalanced.
It was like having your essence, your soul, torn from you.
Without a word, Zaeed quickly tied their hands and ankles together before they could recover. Vasir glared murder at Shepard, while Ceres just sat silently. Shepard hated that technique. It felt wrong to use, but she'd been forced to use it once again. Otherwise, she wasn't confident she could take the two asari down non-lethally with minimal physical damage.
Vasir actually laughed. It was pure shock. "I don't fucking believe it. You gripped me! You fucking biotic gripped me! I've met maybe a dozen asari in my life who can pull off that technique, and only one of them was actually decent at it. And she could do it without mnemonics." She shook her head, grinning. "But no, no, you just had to be the one fucking human to grasp it. Let me guess, Aria taught it to you, huh? Teaching her little whores to defend themselves."
Shepard knelt down next to Vasir and narrowed her eyes. She wanted to wring her throat for that last comment. She calmed the fury that was building in the pit of her stomach and glared at Vasir. "I taught myself. Aria isn't even aware the technique exists outside of what she perceives as my own little power fantasies."
"Is one of them playing out right now, you fucking traitor?"
Shepard opened her omni-tool and set the recording of the call to play on the big vidscreen across the room. Her and Aria's voice booming from the speakers made her feel all sorts of uncomfortable, but she held her posture. She wasn't going to show weakness or doubt in front of Vasir. She couldn't. Not then.
Then, much to everyone's surprise, Vasir's jaw dropped as the recording ended. She looked at Shepard, though not out of hate, but fear. "Shepard," she asked evenly. "The part about the red vorcha. Is that true?"
Shepard nodded. "Yeah. You were in the IFV at the time-"
"Shut up, that's not important. They're alive. That's what you're telling me. That they're still alive, an entire horde of them,and tearing through the station like the rachni."
Shepard stood up and looked down at the spectre, tilting her head curiously. It was worrying that the spectre was focusing on that instead of the more pressing problem. Escaping the station. "They're alive, and they're hungry. Claws as thick as a rifle, bigger than krogan, and, from what Zaeed saw, immune to fire."
Vasir's took a shaky breath. "Okay. Shepard, it's clear you haven't betrayed us, despite your 'relationship' with Aria. We can deal with that later. Right now, there's something you need to understand. All of you, actually. We are now dealing with a Tier II weapon of mass destruction under the Treaty of Farixen."
"Engineered! Disgusting, perversion of genetics! Sloppy and out of control, should have added terminator genes and truncated lifespan! Sterility!" snapped Mordin.
Vasir growled back at him. "Don't you think I know that?! Each batch was designed to have a lifespan of no more than five hours, along with total sterility! This wasn't supposed to happen! None of this was! I smuggled in four, not an entire horde!"
Everyone stared at Vasir in shock. Even Ceres managed to turn herself back on.
Ceres scowled at her. "You brought them here. You unleashed the rachni. Again. That's the exact fucking opposite of your job!"
Vasir groaned. "I'm well aware of that. Goddess, can you people just untie us so we can talk all of this out?" She fidgeted in her bindings. "We don't have time to keep doubting one another's loyalties! I need to know what the fuck has been going on, and trust me there is quite a bit of information that you're going to need if we want to get out of this alive."
Shepard nodded to Zaeed, who released them from their bindings and the collars. He handed the collars back to her, grumbling something vaguely racist. Ceres sat down in a chair and Vasir stood straight up.
Vasir flexed her fingers. "Got a holoprojector in here?"
Shepard jabbed her thumb at the largest table in the room. "Right in the center."
"Then let's get started."
"Well, actually, there's one more thing…"
Vasir gave Shepard a sidelong glance. "What?"
"We picked up a turian along the way. Barefaced-"
"Kill him,"
"He surrendered, and honestly he was able to disarm Zaeed without him realizing it. Impressive stuff."
"Fine. It's on you if he fucks us. Get him out here so we can stop wasting time!"
-(|)-
The loading ramp of the Barracuda IFV slowly lowered open, revealing the bright, overbearing lights of the bunker proper. Rolan pulled his mandibles back in a scowl. Omni-cuffs were easy to get out of, in fact most modern restraints were. The bindings on his hands and feet had already been removed, as if they could have ever held him. The particular brand of shock collar that Zaeed had wrapped around his neck was distinctly of batarian design. All function, no form. Not to mention that it shocked him just a bit harder than was strictly necessary. He wasn't able to disable that one, no matter how hard he tried. Every tactic he'd developed over the years had proven useless, and in fact it felt as though they were being actively countered. Predicted, even.
Shepard popped her head inside the vehicle and frowned at him. Her eyes snapped down to his wrists and legs. "Clever bird." She walked over to him, now in clean clothes and a leather jacket, and smirked, poking the shock collar. "And yet, you couldn't find your way out of this one, eh? That's because it's custom. Let me guess…" She teasingly rubbed her chin and looked at the ceiling. "You tried to manipulate the IFV's eezo core to emit the right frequency pattern to use the manufacturer override? And when that didn't work, you tried disassemble the locking mechanism between shocks, only to find that it had been welded together."
Rolan looked up at her, intrigued. He ran his talons across the troublesome lock at the base of his skull. "There were a few more rather unorthodox attempts, but yes, accurate. Impressive design work. SIU adapted design, I assume. VI-directed. Excellent craftsmanship."
Shepard tilted her head and gave him a sad smile. "Uh, thanks. Not a VI, but yeah, an SIU adaptation. I've been hit with one too many of those kinds of things, and broken out of most of them, so I figured that making my own, and countering my own tactics, would be an effective engineering exercise," she said, her voiced tainted with a hint of shame. She rubbed her throat. "Helps with bounty hunting. Not one of my prouder creations, but it's…useful." She looked away. "You said you wanted to prove yourself, right?"
"That I did, though I'm strongly reconsidering it. You had me bound like a common beast, a slave, and thrown in here so I wouldn't be a bother," he said, his voice still smooth as ever.
Shepard sighed and sat down beside him. "Yeah, that was over the line. I apologize, but frankly, you should know better than to fuck with Zaeed like that. One conversation with that man should have told you that." She ran her fingers through her hair and puffed out her cheeks. "The past few days have been a waking nightmare, bird, but my gut is telling me we're going to need someone with your supposed skill set. Your little demonstration, while arrogant, was nothing if not impressive."
Rolan considered her for a moment. She'd apologized. He hadn't considered that a possibility. He'd met very few humans who could admit fault at any level, and even then they had to be goaded or coerced into doing so. His situation was mistreatment of a prisoner in her eyes, he realized. She was the one who decided not to kill him outright, when the general consensus of Omega would have done so without hesitation. It wasn't mercy, but acknowledgement of honorable warfare. Those who surrender are no longer combatants, and thus killing them would be akin to execution.
Murder.
In the lawless stretch of the galaxy, he'd managed to find the one mercenary with a sense of honor and ethics.
"I'm pleased to know that my performance was well received, in a way," he drolled, voice like silk. "Before I accept your apology, no matter how gracious it may be, I need you to do something for me."
"Which would be what, exactly?"
"Get this damned thing off of my neck."
Shepard snorted and placed three fingers on the collar. "Easy enough. Pay close attention." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Rolan felt an odd sense of biotic energy around his neck, and then, as if it were magic, the collar disengaged and split in half. "There we are."
Rolan looked down at the two halves of the collar, eyes burrowing into their shapes in order to discern their design. "How…?"
Shepard picked the two halves up and gave him a wry look. "Trade secret." She slipped one piece up each of her sleeves. "I think we've wasted enough time. If you still want in, on whatever this is, get your bony ass up and join us at the table. If you don't Zaeed blows your head off and leaves you for the red vorcha. Our HVI is lucid, and we'll need you to fully debrief her." Shepard walked out of the IFV, her boots stomping against the cold metal floor.
Rolan got to his feet and quickly removed his heavy Suns armor, revealing his typical attire. A formal black suit with white accents. He was rather partial to living, and if he was going to get off this station, his original assumption still rang true.
These people were the key.
-(|)-
The next thing Bray knew he was standing outside of Afterlife with the single worst hangover in galactic history. He groaned and clutched his head, turning to see Gavorn beside him, doing the same.
"What the fuck did we even do?" he asked his turian partner. "How much did I drink? How much did you drink, and why the fuck is this happening now?"
Gavorn threw up his arms and began walking through the front entrance of the club. "No idea! I don't even care, because apparently I consumed enough alcohol to kill a thresher maw. Let's call it a day and just report in. We got everyone's support, so unless we're forgetting something, we're done!"
Bray groaned as he followed him. There wasn't any fault in that logic. "Yeah, I'm with you. Damn miracle we pulled off."
"No disagreements here."
They had managed, somehow, to secure an alliance with every one of the major factions of Omega to rally against the red vorcha. He couldn't recall how they'd done that, not exactly, but the brief flashes were that of a massive party and lots and lots of alcohol. It seemed like something he would try to get people back on Aria's side. It had even worked on Sederis, which felt odd.
Bray stopped in his tracks and squinted all four of his eyes. "Where the hell is Patriarch?"
"Who knows? I'm sleeping this off. If you care that much about the old krogan, you go find him."
"That sounds like an excessive waste of my very valuable time. I don't think Aria would approve."
Gavorn rolled his eyes. "Even hungover into oblivion, you still manage to be an asshole. Amazing."
"I do what I do."
-(|)-
Vasir glared at the barefaced turian as he exited the IFV, wearing a formal suit. She rolled her eyes and gestured to the rest of them. "Okay, before we even consider starting anything, I want make sure we're all in the same state of mind. In the interest of full disclosure, for those of you too thickheaded to take the hint, I'm Tela Vasir, an agent of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. I have no official jurisdiction here, and my mere presence, if it were ever proven, could be very, very bad." She folded her hands behind her back. "My goal, overall, is to ensure that doesn't happen. If I have to die, so be it, but it cannot be on this station. My face is plastered everywhere, but that can easily be explained away as forgery. My dead body, armor and blood however, cannot."
She narrowed her eyes at each and every one of them. "I don't know how Shepard roped the rest of you into this. Maybe she bribed you. Maybe she coerced you. Maybe she's just that fucking fantastic of a leader. It is what it is. You're here. Fact of the matter is, I don't care about your motivations. As long as we're all working towards the same goal, you can do whatever the hell you want. So I'm going to ask you once, and only once. Shepard, what is your top priority?"
Shepard met her gaze fiercely. "To get you off this station as discreetly, and quickly, as possible. I'm aware of the potential consequences if we fail, spectre. You have my word that I won't let that happen."
"Not the best vote of confidence since you already tried to kill me, but I'll take it. Zaeed, what about you?"
Zaeed shrugged. "I'm not goddamn stupid. This is the biggest job I've ever had a part of, and it won't be my employer's ass if we fuck it up. It'll be our asses, and everyone elses asses. Besides, we're probably going to have to cut our way through the Suns to get off this rock, so I can kill Vido on the way out."
"Got a score to settle with Santiago, huh?"
Zaeed pointed to the bad side of his face. "He shot me in the face. So yeah, you could say I've got a fucking score to settle." He growled. "Not to mention that goddamn tupari machine."
Shepard ran her fingers through her hair. "Oh my God, Zaeed, it's a vending machine-"
"IT MOCKED ME AND I'M GOING FUCKING TO GUT IT!"
Vasir cleared her throat. "Okay, good. Violent. Miranda?"
"Being well versed in the current galactic political climate, it is my duty as a citizen of-"
"Very patriotic. I'm sure your Shastri is very proud of you," mocked Vasir. "Bareface?"
The turian shrugged. "Rolan Quarn. My top priority is living long enough to die of old age. If assisting in your escape accomplishes that, spectre, than I shall serve with the best of my ability."
Vasir screwed up her face and exchanged a look with Shepard. "Where the hell did you find this guy?"
"He actually came with the Barracuda."
"You're shitting me."
"'Fraid not."
Vasir clapped her hands sarcastically. "Okay, fantastic. Doctor Ceres?"
Ceres raised a brow and looked over at Mordin. "What's that string of words human doctors say when they promise they won't harm patients?"
"Ah. Hippocratic Oath."
"Hippocratic Oath. Why would you even ask me? I already put you back together! Why would I want all that work to go to waste?" she said, sounding offended. "Not to mention my lack of malpractice insurance. You know, because we're on Omega."
Vasir grew a bemused expression. "I get it. Doctor Solus."
"Hippocratic Oath, also assisting Karen with-"
Shepard hissed, cutting him off while making slashing motions over her throat.
Vasir looked between the both of them. "Whatever it is you're trying to keep between the two of you, is it going be detrimental to us in any way, shape or form?"
"Absolutely not."
"Unlikely."
"Mordin!"
"Won't lie to spectre!"
Vasir sighed and waved them off dismissively. "I guess that's as good as we're going to get. Okay, let's get started. Shepard, can you bring up a projection of Omega?"
Shepard nodded and did just that. Sort of. A badly cobbled together projection of the station lit up the room. It was made up of glitchy maps and ancient investment pamphlet pictures, along with crude photos that were probably taken by Shepard herself.
Vasir looked at Shepard, unamused. "Really. This is Omega?"
Shepard scowled back at her. "Well what the hell do you expect? This isn't a secret underground base for some fringe black ops organization to plan massive internal military uprisings! It's just my fuckng house."
Quarn took a closer look at the projector and laughed. "And you continue to impress me, Shepard. I never would have thought of hacking an advert display as a multipurpose holoprojector."
Vasir raised both brows. "You have got to be kidding me."
"Commander Shepard, it has been STRING MISSING months since your last visit to STRING MISSING D.D.S! Don't you think it's time to make that smile even brighter?"
Miranda covered her mouth, looking as if she was going to vomit. "Good god, that's revolting."
"You try finding a dentist on Omega who doesn't try and steal your damn kidneys!" Shepard kicked the table several times until the glitchy hologram stopped talking and became a more agreeable display of Omega. "There! Okay? Everyone happy now?"
Much to Vasir's disappointment, it was not real time. It was Omega as it had been a few days prior, not as it was presently. No detailing of defenses, or architectural markings. Just the station. It would have to do.
"No, but we'll make it work. Let's start with a basic timeline of events and work our way from there." She typed a few commands into her omni-tool, and a vertical list of timestamps appeared next to the projection of Omega. "Everyone put in their own data, even if it's redundant. Locations, events, everything. We need all of our intelligence centralized if we're going to have any chance of figuring this out."
In a few minutes, the timeline was filled, complete with vid attachments from the IFV's outer cameras, Aria's broadcast, and Zaeed's rifle scope.
Vasir looked at Shepard. "Greybox."
She poked Zaeed, who tossed it to her. "There you go, girlie. Don't worry, we didn't peak. No goddamn clue how that technology works, anyway."
Vasir nodded and set the greybox on the table. "Appreciate it. As for the rest of you, this is Aria's real target. Not me, as she would like you to believe. She assumes that it is in my possession, and she is currently correct. It contains information of the highest level of security clearance in Citadel space. To put it simply, I don't have access to this information, even though I was tasked in acquiring it."
Shepard nodded and leaned over the table. "You might want to go over how you acquired it. I move for as much transparency as we can afford, spectre. Just in case."
Vasir frowned. "No. We won't be doing that."
"Could you at least explain how that kid out mindfucked, Aria?"
Vasir sighed and pinched her forehead. "Fine. She was a rekshi."
Ceres snorted. "Figures."
Vasir rolled her eyes. "Explain it to the masses, doctor. I know you're dying to."
"It's a lesser strain of the Ardat-Yakshi mutation, which for those of you who don't know, hopefully none of you, is basically...an asari who eats your brain by bonding, thus killing you, and absorbing your strength. For the mutant, their biotic strength grows, and their hunger increases with each feeding." She crossed her arms. "The Rekshi are a bit different. They don't lose control after feeding, yet gain some biotic strength, and it rarely ever ends in the partner's death. However, the mental battle is still more powerful than almost any matriarch, if they are trained. Most go through life without ever realizing they are one, since the bond is rarely intense enough to be perceived as anything other than really good sex. They are capable of being fully functioning members of society, though some are caught earlier in life, and trained in the art of mental fortitude and assault."
Shepard raised her brows. "That's some serious black ops shit, right there. Which means, you didn't want T'Koma to actually kill Aria, you wanted Aria to take the bait."
"Perceptive," said Vasir.
"But then why did you blow the windows-"
"Hush. No more questions."
Ceres sighed. "Lyrali T'Koma. Honestly, the name should have tipped her off."
"Why? Sounds asari to me," asked Zaeed.
Miranda hummed. "It's their equivalent of Jane and John Doe for us. Unidentified persons with a currently unknown history."
Vasir snapped her fingers. "Okay, now that we've got that out of the way. What happened at the clinic. I blacked out as we landed."
"This is ridiculous." Ceres groaned. "I put you back together, an assassin targeting you killed all but one of my surgical team, who turned out to be Miranda, who then killed the assassin. Then we get the broadcast, Shepard pulls a gun on me, we steal clothes, food, and lots of energy drinks, wrap your head in gauze, hijack that monstrosity-" She points to the Barracuda. "-with barefaced inside of it, fend off a horde of red vorcha, escape using massive collateral damage, drive here, and you know the rest."
Vasir blinked. "Oh, well that works. Am I fully debriefed, then?"
Everyone nodded.
"Good. Wait, Mordin, what are you mumbling to yourself about?"
Shepard smiled fondly. "He does that sometimes. Auditory learner."
Vasir shrugged. "Fair. Moving on, since apparently all of that debriefing, besides the Hunt, was pretty irrelevant, we have three primary objectives. One, send a message to my ship, the Orisini, that's docked over Imorkan to give them a time and location for extraction. I don't see us using a ship that's already on the station as a viable option, because they're probably made of paper. Our second objective is to disable the GTS/STS and GARDIAN defenses all across the station just before the Orisini comes into position. We can't give them time to reboot. Third, and this is the least likely of them all, extermination of the red vorcha. We cannot allow them to breed beyond the station."
Shepard shook her head. "The first one is already impossible. All outbound communications are jammed. Even the extranet is blocked. There's no way we can get a signal off of this station."
Miranda narrowed her eyes. "That may not be entirely accurate." She willed her omni-tool to life and turned on her omni-tool's radio. Static. "I'm tuned to a random frequency, local. If I keep scanning, eventually I'll find…"
"I don't think they're coming back for Patriarch. Think we should just kill him?"
"Nah, let's just leave him. Red vorcha will get him. C'mon let's get some varren kebabs."
Vasir raised a brow. "Blood Pack?"
Miranda nodded. "They typically don't encrypt their transmissions, so that's the most likely explanation. That was local. If I tune to the mad prophet…"
Everyone in the room groaned.
"Trust me, I'm going somewhere with this," grumbled Miranda.
"You had goddamn better be. I am sick of this stupid rants," said Zaeed.
"BROTHERS AND SISTERS-"
Miranda shrugged. "He didn't cut out, I just muted him. Now, we switch to frequencies designated for the comm buoys and…"
"SISTERS IN ARMS! THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT IS FINALLY-"
"That's enough of that." Miranda closed her omni-tool and smiled. "It's an identical transmission, yet it's being broadcast off of the station. Only the mad prophet is able to make his voice heard."
Shepard snickered. "The irony there is amazing."
Vasir narrowed her eyes and leaned forward onto the table. "You're suggesting we reprogram the transmission? For all we know, whatever method that idiot is using to bypass the jamming will only work for this specific transmission. That is, assuming we can even find where's broadcasting from. Spectres before me have tried and failed. He's a ghost. Besides, Aria would instantly know something was wrong if the message changed to anything else."
Miranda shook her head. "We wouldn't need to reprogram the transmission, not entirely. I can embed a small string of text, no more than two hundred fifty six characters, into the visual portion of the signal. If we set the signal to go through a specific comm buoy, it'll bounce all the way to some...friends of mine." Miranda evened her expression and looked around the room. "Friends who are always, always, looking for messages in that specific format."
Vasir nodded slowly. Clearly, there was more to Miranda than she had thought. Vasir wasn't sure if she was military, or third-party special forces, but either way, she'd be watching her. Closely. "Okay. Then what would your 'friends' do?"
"Send a message to your ship directly, assuming you have confirmation codes to ensure your identity in case of-"
"I do, obviously. They were on my omni-tool, but I memorized them in case that thing was junked. Which it was." Vasir turned to frown at Shepard. "Thanks for that, by the way. And for the shitty civilian loaner model."
"Shut up," grumbled Shepard.
"In any case, if we can find the broadcast center, and if what you're saying is true, that'll work fine," said Vasir, taking a closer look at the display. "If memory serves, the last spectre before me who tried to find the broadcast center determined a lot of places where it wasn't. Specifically…" She outlined roughly half of the station. Parts of the lower spine, and almost all of the asteroid proper. "It's not in the mines, or near the bottom."
Shepard scratched her cheek. "Zaeed and I have been doing some...investigating on the station during our time here, and we've blown open many a building during jobs. We can probably narrow it down as well."
In a few minutes, not counting the numerous breakouts of bickering between everyone except Quarn and Mordin, who had been keeping to themselves, Vasir was pleased to see that around ninety-five percent of Omega was crossed out.
"Okay. That's more like it," she said, grinning. "Four possible locations, so we'll have to split up. One is in the Sun's territory-"
Zaeed perked up and smashed his hand against the table, cracking it. "That one!"
Shepard rubbed her temples. "Stop. Breaking. The furniture."
Vasir chuckled and nodded at Zaeed. "Okay, you get the Suns-"
"Goddamn right."
"-and Quarn."
"Goddammit!"
Quarn didn't look too offended. "I'll make sure they don't see us coming."
"I'd rather they did, dumbass," barked Zaeed.
"Hey! Shut up! Okay, target two is...okay, it's more like six or seven targets in close proximity. Miranda, Ceres? Have any problems working together again?"
Miranda shook her head. "None at all."
Ceres gave Miranda a sidelong glance. "You're not the worst nurse I've ever had the displeasure of working with, so I'm sure it'll turn out fine. Wonderfully, even."
"Your bedside manner is terrible."
"Can't imagine why."
Vasir sighed and turned to Shepard. "Which leaves you and me for the third location, Eclipse territory, since the fourth one is fucking stupid."
"I don't know, if I were an insane batarian, I'd position my secret broadcasting station outside of the station itself. Well, inside but only accessible from the outside," said Quarn.
Shepard shrugged. "We'll hit that place last if everything else is a dead end. We'd need to space walk to get there, anyway."
Miranda cursed. "Right! No one can wear helmets! Red Vorcha screams shatter mil-spec glass." She traced the scars on her cheek. "Bit of a close call with that revelation."
Vasir stared at the table. "That won't be a problem once we're in space where there isn't any sound. Ugh. Then how am I going to hide my face?!"
"Balaclava?" suggested Shepard.
"That's gonna look really stupid on me, isn't it?"
"Probably, yeah."
Vasir sighed. "Okay, so that leaves Doctor Solus as...are you comfortable with keeping us updated on our progress, Doctor? Collating data from each team and relaying it to the other."
Mordin nodded several times. "Yes. Easily done, can multitask with other, more pressing matters."
Vasir raised a brow. "What could possibly be more important than-"
"No, no, no, no, that...no," sputtered Mordin, sprinting over to this terminal. "Can't, must be some mistake. Other alternative. Civil War can't be instigated without volatility. Only theoretical. Political simulation, not meant for real world application unless retaliation was...insurmountable threat…" He shook his head. "No, red vorcha not widespread, no concept of nationalism or government. Capacity for emotional attachment unlikely, would have to be quarians. humans. batarians. krogan." He looked up at Vasir, black eyes wide and filled with fear. "Oh no."
Shepard was already at Mordin's side. "What? What's wrong? Christ, I've never seen you this worried. Normally, you're just excited at this level of hyperactivity but...Mordin? You're scaring me. What's wrong?"
Zaeed stared at the salarian, looking like he was constipated. That man had the oddest facial expressions. "Yeah, this is...wrong. He's supposed to be all jumpy and, well, not goddamn depressing about shit that I don't understand."
Vasir's eyes slowly widened as it hit her. "Aria doesn't know what's on the greybox." She stared down at it. "...because it's not her memories that they want." She looked back up at Mordin. "You fucked her, didn't you?"
Mordin nodded. "Once."
Shepard almost jumped backward. "Wow. Uh. Great job?"
"No. Opposite."
Vasir narrowed her eyes at Mordin. "Doctor. What did you know?"
Mordin took a deep breath and laid his hands on the table. "Outline. Very rough, concept only, but with funding, interest, talent…" He cleared his throat. "Possible genophage cure."
Vasir swallowed, trying her best not to panic and destroy the entire bunker. "Goddess, please tell me that I misheard that."
Shepard was pale and shivering. "I never thought I'd say this, but God, please make me have a stroke thirty seconds ago."
Ceres stared, wide eyed at Mordin. "You're insane. You are completely and utterly insane."
Miranda buried her head in her hands. "We...this can't happen. This can't happen. I have to…" She slammed her fists against the table, eyes filled with rage. "We have to destroy it."
Zaeed rolled his eyes. "He said possible cure, not a goddamn miracle. Fucking crybabies…"
Shepard growled and glared at him. "Zaeed. Do you have any fucking idea what happens now if Aria gets her hands on that? If Vasir dies here? If we fail? Do you have even the slightest goddamn clue as to what will happen!?"
Zaeed shrugged. "Not really, no."
"Civil War. Not just political theory. Not just a simple simulation to test diplomatic limits, and certainly not just my overactive imagination and inherent paranoia! The galaxy will most likely get mired in an intragalactic civil war that-"
Vasir stared at the projection of Omega. "It will last an asari lifetime. Billions will die for nothing. The Citadel will fall. If Aria can strike a deal with the krogan of this magnitude, she will control them. If she controls the krogan, other races will follow her out of fear, or out of similar ideology. Tensions are high enough as it is right now back in Citadel space. Everyone but the council races are enraged at the balance of power. Freedom from that, the inequality staring them in the face everyday for their entire lives, is an enticing and motivating offer." She took a shaky breath. "Only the Hierarchy will stand with the Citadel, that's an absolute. My own people will be divided, so will Mordin's."
Miranda recomposed herself. "The Alliance will probably side with Aria. Most of us feel...cheated. Left behind and in the dark," she said, giving Shepard a quick glance.
Shepard sneered. "Doesn't surprise me."
Zaeed crossed his arms. "Alright. I don't normally give a shit about politics, but this, this fucking thing...I don't goddamn like this. I don't want it. Small time ground wars are one thing, but this is fucking stupid."
Quarn looked around the room. "There's a simple solution to all of this."
Ceres glared at him. "Is there, bareface? Is there really? Please, indulge us in this miracle solution of yours!"
"We move forward. Follow the plan. We don't fail," he said, sounding uncharacteristically patriotic. "The only thing that's changed is our motivation. We all have the same one. Preventing that insanity."
Vasir picked up the greybox and stared at it. "Without destroying this..."
Shepard set her jaw and walked over to her. "We have to destroy it. I won't let you kill Mordin, he can keep a secret-"
"Apparently not! And it's not up to me. Council still wants this thing, so I am bound to give it to them. They'll probably just archive it away where no one will ever see it again. And if we're lucky..." She looked over at Mordin. "He'll die of old age, thus destroying all traces of the cure."
Mordin nodded. "Would prefer that."
"All right. Time to stop moping around and start getting the job done." Vasir turned to Shepard, clipping the greybox to her belt. "Shepard, what do we have in terms of armaments?"
Shepard's panicked expression slowly reformed into a sly smirk. "An excessive amount." She cracked her knuckles. "And that's not even counting some of my more...eccentric pieces."
"And just like that, I'm starting to like you."
-(|)-
A/N: And so we enter Part 2, and I start to pull back the curtain. Thanks for sticking with me this long, folks! It's only gonna get better.
Sederis and Shepard's biotic grip technique is not inspired by the Force Choke. Nope, it's actually bloodbending. Sort of. I had the idea a long time ago, but I never associated with bloodbending until recently. It's mostly the physical mnemonics that Shepard uses that take inspiration from the bloodbending. Think...Tarrlok, but even less refined.
If you're curious as to why she didn't use it in their previous fight, it's because Shepard actually needs a moment to focus and breathe to pull it off. It's an incredibly complicated and draining technique that she can't do on the fly like Sederis.
In fact, a lot of the combat in this series was inspired by the Avatar universe, rather than DBZ, Hong Kong action films, or kung fu movies. Those of you who can pick out which sequences were inspired by a specific kind of bending get an internet cookie!
The collapsing/multipurpose/throwable biotic suppression collars can be visualized like batarangs. Expect to see more of those, as well as lots of other fun gadgets :D
Originally, the Greybox was actually filled with junk data, so the whole thing was a ruse. LogicalPremise kicked the stupid out of that. I like this much better.
Reviews are appreciated! No matter how scathing or minimal! :D